The Necromerchant's Choice
by lost.in.literature
Summary: Post-opera. Grave's life has always been about doing what's be for himself, but difficult choices lie ahead. "Teen" for safety's sake.


**A/N: I have been writing stories, poems, short plays, essays, etc. for several years now, but this is the first fanfiction I have ever attempted (unless you count series-based role plays, which I do not). That being said, if you chose to review my story, please give me something more than, "OMG, that was sooo good" or "wow, U totally suck"; instead, tell me what is is that you liked/disliked and feel free to offer constructive criticism.**

**Now, about this story... It is set some time after the events of the Opera and focuses primarily on Graverobber, Shilo, and an OC of my own. No, the OC will not be romantically involved with Graverobber at any point. No, she is not a self-insert or a "how I wish I was". No, she is not based on any previous character from this fandom or any other. No, she will not save the day. Yes, she DOES have connections to Graverobber's past (again, not romantic ones), but not in any way that alters cannon. I have taken great pains to prevent Sueism.**

**That being said, I hope that you enjoy what I have written so far.**

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_'Why agonize? Anesthetize… Enjoy GeneCo's new extra-strength formula of Zydrate, now available at a pharmacy near you... Ask your SurGen if Zydrate is right for you… Miss Sweet reminds us that Zydrate is not intended for recreational use… Citizens with substance abuse problems are advised to seek help… Zydrate addicts' support-group meetings are held Wednesdays and 11 o'clock… Buying Zydrate from an unlicensed source is discouraged…'_

The mechanical recording hummed in the bitter night air, a cold robotic voice spewing empty words. It rang through the desolate city streets, echoed down alleys, and buzzed through Sanitarian Square. Even in the cemetery, where GeneCo's graveyard watch shuffled between headstones, swinging flashlights haphazardly, it droned on. Every now and then one of the watchmen would grumble something about 'dull work' and 'lousy pay', and occasionally lament that he 'should have gone to college'. Only seven young officers made up the squad. Nothing eventful had happened in the past fortnight, and tonight wasn't expected to be any different. As the minimal patrol completed another circuit of the churchyard, one Graverobber looked on in disappointment.

"Bummer…" he growled.

The lack of police would make his task pointlessly easy, and half the fun of the job was the risk of getting caught. He fondly remembered the good old days when grave robbing was one of the most heinous offenses a person could commit. Back then, only the most senior GeneCops, armed to the teeth and prepared to fire at anything that moved, were put on the night shift. Nowadays the cemetery squad was nothing but a few rookies and volunteer Cops with stun guns and virginal pistols. Graverobber had only been spotted once since Amber Sweet issued Executive Order 103-24, and the poor kid had been too dumbfounded to sound the alarm. For the most part, the cocky malefactor had to intentionally draw attention to himself to get a taste of that old adrenaline rush.

With perfunctory ease, Graverobber vaulted over the low perimeter wall and strolled to a corner of the cemetery he had not yet explored. The plaques and tombstones in this area were older than most, the most recent year of death being 2003. The words _'Beloved Sister'_ were etched into the brittle stone. With a swift kick from his boot, they crumbled into dust to reveal the coffin nestled into the squat monument. A Cheshire grin lit Graverobber's face in the dark and he hauled the casket from its resting place and pried up the cover.

Sliver tools shimmered in the dim moonlight as his quick hands worked their crime. One glass vial filled with blue and disappeared into his satchel and another empty one was drawn out. The engraving _'Cherished Friend'_ was demolished beneath his fist, and another box was uprooted. The lid came off. Another corpse was assaulted with a needle. Graverobber hummed a jaunty tune of his own creation as he went about his grotesque work. But before he could fill the next vessel, a white glow lit the area.

Graves shied away from the flashlight's beam as the GeneCop swung it in his direction, bringing him back to reality more abruptly than he liked. It would do him no good to get caught _before_ he was done. The light lingered, the GeneCop uncertain. Graverobber held his breath. At last the Cop moved on, having either decided he hadn't seen anything or that investigating would be too much of a bother. The drug peddler was free to go about his business.

As thrilling as it was to taunt the authorities, Graverobber was a little thankful for the lack of police in the area; since the price of legal Zydrate had skyrocketed, his business had nearly doubled. Plus, now that grave robbing was only considered a misdemeanor, Scalpel sluts of every breed were throwing their money – and themselves – at him from every direction, and he had to keep up with the demand.

He wasn't in it solely for the material rewards, of course. Money was nice, and sex was even better, but he could live without one or both of them. Well, maybe just one… for a little while, at least. In truth, he often forgot why he had _really_ started selling illegal Zydrate in the first place. It wasn't as though someone had put a gun to his head and a syringe in his hand and made him do it.

Maybe he liked it.

Maybe he had fun flouting the law.

Maybe he was a sadist who enjoyed feeding others' demons.

Maybe he just wanted that feeling of being "needed" by his customers.

'_Too deep. Better get my tires rotated.'_ He stowed away another tube of the luminescent blue, abandoning this contemplation before he could think any further into it. Profound, inward reflection had never been his domain. He left that up to the poets.

As fate would have it, Graves wouldn't need to chase after new train of thought. As he fished a new vial from his kit, it came to his attention that he was not the only shady character lurking in the cemetery that night.


End file.
